Miranda Lotto: A Survivor's Tale
by Mr. Ree and Mr. Meenor
Summary: Miranda Lotto, survivor of World War III, is struggling to hold down a job when she meets Allen, an orphan who got left behind. Shortly after meeting him, she is thrust into a world of dictatorship and conspiracy, all while running a new-found orphanage.
1. The Boy Named Allen

Ooh! A Miranda fic! Welcome, everyone! Mr. Ree (and Mr. Meenor in the background) here! Welcome to 'Miranda Lotto: A Survivor's Tale'! This is surprisingly new for me, because I haven't stared any of the few female characters yet. And Miranda, well, she was perfect for this new plot. It is slightly based of off 'Maus', but it's not about the Holocaust, just for your information. I hope you enjoy! So! Let us commence forthwith with Chapter 1 of 'Miranda Lotto: A Survivor's Tale'!

Disclaimer: D. Gray-Man is property of Katsura Hoshino and Funimation. This series is a parody and nothing more, so please support the official release. Got it? Damn well better.

~O~

1. The Orphan Named Allen

"P-Please! Just give me another cha—"

"No! It's expensive to break windows! Please leave!"

The wooden door slammed shut in her face, scattering dust on the doorstop as her eyes watered with tears. Pedestrians walked by her, casting odd glances to the tearful woman, though none of them asked what was wrong. Her shoulder hunched over as she sobbed pitifully for a moment longer before forcing herself to stand up. It was the ninety-ninth job she got fired from, and soon, nowhere would have any jobs available.

The dusty roads beneath her spiraled sand and tumbleweeds about, the summer heat nearly unbearable. Buildings were rundown and abandoned as a result of World War III, which was the final nail on America's—and the rest of the worlds—coffin. What was considered to be the 'modern' lifestyle was lost to atomic bombs and billions of dead bodies. Countries burned to the ground, and now, in this new age, everything was starting over, down to every last island. Jobs seemed to float away as poverty reached an all-time high, and thousands died of starvation everyday. The human race was becoming an endangered species.

Luckily for her, she managed to find a rundown cabin amidst a dead forest and dried-up wetland that suited her just fine. No one else dared to venture far into the broken branches and bones of rotting animals, but she traveled from her home to the main part of town in search of food and water. She kept a barrel of the precious substance at home and tried to keep it from getting stale occasionally.

Her stomach growled at her as she kicked the dirt at her feet. Her dress, stained with sweat and blood, torn here and there, was stepped on, causing her to trip and land face-first into a rock. It cut her forehead open, making her wince in pain, but she just stood back up and kept walking. She needed to find a new job, or else she would starve, just like nearly everyone else.

"Thief!"

She turned to the yell, seeing an elderly woman pointing at a young child, apples in his hands. He rushed passed her, giving her a glimpse of his face. Blue eyes with a scar with unnatural white hair, tattered clothes and a gloved hand made up the child. At first, she thought it was a ghost, but the way people chased the child, she could tell it wasn't only she who could see him. He was quick for a child, though, unnaturally quick.

"Blast… That's the tenth time that kid stole from me," she heard the old woman mutter. "Damn kids, they've got nothing better to do than to steal from the hardworking."

She watched as the woman retired back to a fruit store, her gait a bit too slow, before turning her head back to see the men shaking their heads, muttering amongst themselves. There were no apples in their hands, so she figured the kid managed to escape from their clutches. She clapped inside her head before walking again, wondering where he went. Seeing children as dirty as that wasn't too rare, but something compelled her to find him.

The blood from her cut dripped off her chin as she ducked down a trash-covered alley, the smells of urine nearly making her gag. She proceeded onwards, however, stepping over broken glass and torn dolls. It led her further down a maze of bones and coughing alcoholics, past the old bar and into an old building. The door was unhinged from the top, it tilting at an awkwardly inviting angle. She paused and swallowed. Cobwebs clung to the corner of the door, dead carcasses of a spider's meal wrapped in little cocoons.

She didn't know if the boy was here, but she was following her instinct, not her head, which was persistent in telling her to go home.

She wiped the blood from her forehead before walking into the lightless structure, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. A table with three legs was in the center of the room, four chairs tipped on their sides. _A family used to live here. _She glanced about, eyes trying desperately to adjust to the dark. She could see a family portrait on the wall, the wallpaper curling at its tears. Toy trucks left in the wake of abandonment nearly caused her to fall on her face when she stepped on one, but she caught herself.

Something behind her moved.

Her head whipped around, the bun in her hair nearly coming out, as the scuttling ceased.

"H-Hello?" She took a step forward towards what looked to be a kitchen. "Is anyone here? Hello?"

A stomach growling caused her to jump, then blink as she rounded the corner. Hiding behind the half-wall was the little boy, two apple cores beside him. His eyes were round and adorable as they blinked up at her, looking fearful. He probably thought she was going to scold him for taking the apples. She looked him up and down. He wore a brown tunic and shorts, both of which had too many holes to count. The gloved arm looked bigger than normal. His feet were bare and cut up from running.

He was the definition of 'pathetic'.

"My name's Miranda," she began, her hand reaching towards him. He flinched away, causing her to stop. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I just wanted to ask if I could have an apple."

He shoved one in front of her face, arm trembling. She stared at the shiny skin for a moment, the redness almost sparkling despite the fact that it was dark within the falling structure. She smiled faintly before taking it out of his hands. "Thank you," she said. "Do you have a name?"

His head, placed on his knees, didn't move as a small voice answered, "Allen."

"Do you have parents?"

He shook his head.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Another shake of the head. He was truly alone, sort of like her. Her parents died in the war protecting her, which was a dumb mistake. She couldn't do anything right, no matter what she did, and couldn't even hold down a job. Her parents would be so ashamed if they saw her now. However, seeing this child, it almost made her feel happy. She was better off than someone else was, which made her saddened by the fact that she thought such a terrible thing.

"I don't have any, either," she said, sitting down next to him and ignoring the mealworms squirming their way to a new place. "I guess we're kind of the same, huh?"

He didn't respond, the apples sitting by his sides. He seemed shy. Up close, she could see bruises here and there, a big one forming around his eye. His face was pale and drawn, and she could nearly see the bones in his arms. He was truly starved.

"Do you live here?"

He nodded. "No one ever wants to come in here," he explained slowly. His voice was cracked and squeaky. "There are many spiders living here. It scares everyone away."

"You're not afraid of spiders?"

"I'm not afraid of anything."

_Brave, unlike me, _she admired. She stood up and offered a hand. "Here," she said, "you can live with me, if you wish. We can be two lonely people together, traversing great distant lands. Well, to my house, anyways."

He hesitated. "You're not just going to beat me, are you?"

"I would never—!" She stopped when she saw the tears in his eyes, a little bit of snot coming out of his nose. "No," she said calmly, hand still outstretched, "I want to help you, not hurt you, Allen."

He stared at her hand for a moment longer before he reached out and grabbed it. His fingers, boney and small, clung to her own as she led the way towards the front door, still dangling by one hinge. She lifted up her free arm to block out the burning sun, the clouds slowly moving in to cover it. _Good. _A chilled wind blew up some dust, indicating a storm coming. _Maybe we can get some rain while we walk. That way, we can get him cleaned up when we get there. _

She could feel his little trembles as she navigated back through the alleys and into the streets. The sky was turning an unfamiliar hue of red. She grimaced, suddenly realizing what it meant. It wasn't going to be a rainstorm. It was going to be a dust bowl. People were running about, looking for shelter to take cover in, as Miranda looked around desperately. Windows were being closed as shops were closed, abandoning its wares of food. She squinted towards the horizon. Judging by the wind, she gave it about two minutes before it would hit.

"Quickly!" She picked up the boy and ran, nearly tripping over her dress once or twice. The winds picked up and howled, threatening to shatter bones like a child playing a cruel game of 'step on as many ant hills as you can'. Allen clung to her shoulder, watching the storm quickly approaching. He watched as tiles blew off its house, small rocks breaking windows, and a drunken man being whipped about like a rag doll. His eyes widened before burying his head into Miranda's shoulder, not wanting to see anymore.

_I-If I can just… make it to the trees! _She stumbled and caught herself before completely falling over. _The trees will slow down its force, with or without leaves, but it would be better if they had them! This is not just for my pathetic sake anymore; it's for his, too! C'mon, Miranda, move your legs faster!_

She looked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the havoc caused by the dust. Its funnel tore buildings apart. She turned forward to see the forest drawing closer, however she wasn't running fast enough, and she knew it. Allen shook like a plate in a house next to a train track while the train was going by. She grimaced, looking around for another alternative, dust filling her lungs.

"Don't breathe!" she yelled, but the roar of wind made her yells whispers. Her eyes focused in on another alleyway, but it looked like it wouldn't hold for very long. The dust bowl closed in on her and pushed her over, causing her to tumble into the ground, her grip tightening around the boy. The pressure around her kept her down, covering him from harm's way, as she heard screams of someone nearby. It was probably Allen or someone else unfortunate to get caught in the storm, she couldn't tell. All she knew was that she couldn't breathe, so that meant he couldn't, either. The boy needed to live, if nothing else.

Weakly, she tried to force herself to stand, keeping her head down while pressing his head into her shoulder. Bits of roofing blew by her, hitting the massive dead oaks and pressing up against its trunk. She blinked away the dust trying to get into her eyes as she took a slow step forward, feeling so close, yet so far away. If she tried to run, she would immediately get a face full of dirt again. It also didn't help that she was going uphill. Taking one step was bad enough, but what other choices did she have?

A door whipped by, nearly clipping her on the back of the head. She coughed as she took another step, then another, her feet feeling like they were sinking into quicksand. She pressed onwards, though, and, after what felt like hours, reached the massive trunk that kept the roofing tiles in place. She ducked behind it when a gust of wind toppled over some of the thinner trees, the trunks snapping in two and making a god-awful noise.

"Okay," she said, Allen coughing for air, "we should be safe until the storm passes."

"I," he started, then fell silent as the dust blew by the shelter of the oak.

"What is it?"

"I dropped the apples," he finished, looking ashamed.

She stared at him, blinking. "Was that why you screamed earlier?"

"More like crying, but yes." His nails dug into her dress, almost as if waiting to get hurt. "I'm sorry."

She laughed. It was sudden and even threw her off-guard, but she couldn't help herself as a tremendous wave of relief hit her. Allen looked at her, confused, as she wiped the tears away, her chuckles getting smaller. "Sorry," she said, "but we just survived all of that and you're worried about losing the apples. You're a lot like me. Hah…"

He glanced to his side and blinked. "Miranda? Miranda, the storm's gone."

She stopped laughing and looked about. What he said was true; the storm did subside. It came and went like that, though the amount of damage it caused was still to be determined. She stood up and brushed the dust off her dress before peering out from behind the oak. Down the sandy hill and a tenth of a mile was a pile of destruction. She stared, mouth agape, as all buildings, already damaged from war, had fallen to the ground, leaving nothing but rubble. Her fingers clutched the bark of the tree, not knowing what to do, as the little boy glanced out as well.

"Wow," he said. "The old building I lived in is completely gone."

She knew she should have checked for survivors, but the other half—the half that wanted to go back home—overwhelmed her and forced her to look away. People might have survived and would probably look for others. She would just trip and cause more work than necessary. "C'mon, Allen," she said, taking his hand. "Let's go see if my place survived, too."

"Okay." He followed her into the forest of dead trees as they treaded through the dust of the massive storm left behind.

~O~

The cabin, which the storm evaded, stood still among a clearing, dead trees and large boulders being its homemade gates. The forest floor was made up of orange pine needles, making it soft to touch with bare feet. He walked unsteadily behind her as his inspection continued further. He could see that the cabin itself had unbroken windows and a properly working door, unlike his old home. Barrels lined the outside with labels engraved into them: 'Fresh Water' and 'Still Needs to be Purified Water', though the labels were spelled wrong. Miranda didn't seem to exactly be the studious type, it seemed.

The wooden stair creaked beneath her feet as she stepped onto the small deck. The door even had a key, he approved, as she unlocked the door and opened it wide. The floors were covered with rugs made of pressed pine needles. A bookshelf rested in the corner of what appeared to be the living room, old books collecting a lot of dust. There was a sofa against the wall that had many stains, a table with a photograph, and a notebook with a chewed pen on top of it. Stepping in, he could see a small kitchen attached to a hallway, which led to a closed door. There was also a staircase leading up. Candles were everywhere. Miranda walked towards one of them before striking a match and lighting it.

"This is your home?"

"Yes. Well, it wasn't mine before," she explained. "When my parents died, I was only eleven, so I searched far and wide for a place to stay, and found this old thing." She lit another candle before continuing. "It was a lot worse than this, but after finding a lot of used furniture, I made it my own. One person's trash is another person's treasure."

"It's better than most peoples," he commented, eying the photo. A little girl who looked like the woman beamed in the middle, a man and woman beside her. They looked as if they were at a body of water. Was it the ocean? He had never been to the ocean before. "How did they die?"

"Protecting me. There was a bomb raid from Russia—oh, you probably don't know where Russia is, but it's a continent connected to Europe, which is across the Atlantic Ocean—and we had to evacuate, but the sirens were a bit delayed. I remember that there was a lot of smoke everywhere and corpses of my friends…" She trailed off, almost as if she were reliving the experience, her eyes clouded with thought, then picked up again. "Mother, in hearing a plane, told my father to throw me towards the troops that were helping with the evacuation. I didn't want to leave, but they wouldn't hear it, so they threw me, and I survived. My father was quite strong." She paused. "When the soldiers caught me was when the bomb went off. I didn't see them die, but the soldiers wouldn't let me look back. I asked them over and over again where my parents were.

"Eventually, I was taken to a safe house and they told me that my parents were dead. I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I couldn't. Part of me wanted to yell at my parents for not staying in Germany like I originally wanted." She stared at the picture before turning and smiling at Allen. "But they died for my sake because they loved me, and I have to remember that. Otherwise, their sacrifice would have been for nothing."

"Oh. I didn't know parents cared for us kids that much."

The comment almost made her gasp, but seeing his face made her stop. There was no emotion on his face, which meant he was serious. "What happened to your parents?"

"I don't know. They left me behind."

She frowned. _Who can do that to their own child? _Slightly angered, she patted him on the head. "Well, Allen, you won't have to worry about me leaving you. I'll protect you as long as you want me to."

"I can do it myself." He waved his hands as if he were embarrassed. "Really, I can. I have been for several years now."

"Well, that's not right. Children shouldn't be doing that. But I guess you're right in not wanting me to. I can't even protect myself these days." She laughed nervously, ashamed of her own weakness. It was right, though. She really couldn't protect anyone with the way she acted. All she could do was make more and more mistakes and run away from danger. "But I can at least give you a place to stay. What do you say? You want to live here?"

He stared back at her blankly. "You'll really let me live here?"

"Of course! I may not have much to offer, and I'm a little overbearing, but if you want—"

He hugging her legs, his head buried in her dress, cut her off. She almost couldn't catch the words as he whispered, "Thank you, Miranda."

It was so honest that it made her want to cry. Did she actually do something of worth? She faintly smiled at him and patted him on the head.

"You're welcome, Allen."

~O~

Well! Chapter 1, done! So! Did you like it? Hate it? Love it? Destroy it? Hit me with a review, por favor! I do try to reply to all of them (if the option is there, at any rate). Personally, I do not believe there are enough Miranda fan fics, so my aim is to get her character out there. See you in Chapter 2~! —Mr. Ree


	2. Two's a Party, Four's an Inspiration

Wow guys! I got at least 21 messages, one of which being from , and the rest of them from you all! Wow! Thank you, and I hope to do well in this chapter, too! I got a total of ten reviews: Fyrearth, Naarano, Soulless Ghost, usuilove21, animephoenix2468, moonray9, rin1782, Variation on Ink, madwomans, and Doctor Yok! I give you all cookies for you to enjoy, along with this! So! Let us commence forthwith with Chapter 2 of 'Miranda Lotto: A Survivor's Tale'!

Disclaimer: D. Gray-Man is property of Katsura Hoshino and Funimation. This series is a parody and nothing more, so please support the official release. Got it? Damn well better.

~O~

2. Two's a Party, Four's an Inspiration

"Job number one hundred, here I come," she muttered under her breath, a tone of defeat already reaching her voice. She found a different dress out of her selection of only three and put it on, hoping the rip on the side wasn't too revealing. She knew, because of the dust storm the previous afternoon, that there would be an opportunity to help out and possibly get food for her and Allen. With two mouths to feed now, she had to get as much food and water she could get her hands on.

She put on her shabby shoes and walked upstairs to the loft, where the orphan she found yesterday laid still in sleep. A fur coat of a bear, one that she found within the building, covered his small body as his head pressed up against the wooden floor. He didn't seem to mind. Carefully, she placed a basket of eggs and a few apples beside his head, leaving a note with terrible spelling telling him how to cook scrambled and over easy eggs. It also mentioned how she might not be home until later that evening.

The miraculous sound of a bird chirp caused her to jump. Typically, it was eerily silent within the dead forest, so the sound of a bird was rare. She opened the window and peered out, turning her head from side to side to look for it, but she didn't even catch a glimpse. Sighing, she closed the window, then descended the stairs and glanced at herself in the broken mirror. Half of her face revealed worry and desperation, the dress indicating work of failing proportions.

"Get yourself together," she told herself. "There is no way you can lose one hundred jobs. There is absolutely no way, not when a disaster struck. Someone needs me… right? Or am I so pathetic to even not be of use after a disaster?"

She looked back over to the loft, hearing the small snores of the boy, then headed out the front door. The morning sun was covered with clouds, though she doubted it would rain. It never rained anymore, not since the war ended.

She locked the door and left, heading down the dirt-covered trails made by her own two feet, twisting and turning at overgrown roots covered in dried moss and toppled trees. She jumped over a tree once or twice before seeing the start of a dusty reminder. Shingles got into the picture shortly afterwards, along with doors and glass pieces. When she arrived to the hill, she spotted only a few people digging his or her way into the rubble, hoping for either a loved one or someone else to be alive. She tried to run towards them, but instead ended up tumbling down the hill for a few feet.

_Great job, Miranda! _She picked herself up and continued running, spotting a boy who looked to be a teenager in desperation. His fingers were cut raw by digging. One of his nails even appeared to have fallen off. He looked angry.

"E-Excuse me!" she yelled, rushing towards him. "Would you like some help?"

"Yes, please!" He didn't even turn to look at her. Now that was some dedication. "My friend got buried under a house, and I can hear her, but she's incredibly thirsty and in pain, and everyone else is busy, so I've been digging all night."

He had unusual features on his person, mostly the flickering red hair that nearly made her wince whenever she looked at it. An eye patch was strapped to his face, covering one eye as the other was a lively green. She shoved those thoughts aside and helped him dig through the sand and rubble, noticing several water pitchers.

"She's buried under a building?"

"Yes! And I can't… Damn, Lenalee, keep talking to me!" He pressed his ear up against the remnants of a roof as his eye widened. "Lenalee? Lenalee, answer me, damn it, I can't find you if you're silent!"

A small, muffled cry of a girl's pain caught Miranda's attention. She was close, but a roof covered her location from her eyes. The redheaded boy attempted to lift the roof up by himself, his muscles obviously tired and strained, and failed. He stumbled back and panted, glaring at the heavy structure, before walking towards it again, but she stopped him.

"Wait, you can't do this by yourself," she said, but he batted her hand away.

"She's going to die if I don't lift this thing up!" His anger fitted perfectly with the way he looked, but the green eye, it seemed to give away the emotion of anguish. "If you're going to try and stop me, I will hurt you!"

"I'm just trying to help," she replied dismally, but he ignored her. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes. Even though it really wasn't a job, she wasn't needed. She got 'fired' for the one hundredth time. The pre-teen approached the ceiling again, grunting and exerting as much force as humanly possible, lifting it about three inches. Miranda scampered over, almost tripping, and helped him push the object up. He glanced at her warily.

"Look, lady, it's obvious you have no muscles in you! All you're going to do is get in the—"

"…L… La…"

He stopped, glancing under the seven inches they managed to lift, and spotted the young girl. Miranda managed to see her and another person, looking to be a young male, covering her as if out of protection. Both had black (those her seemed to have greenish highlights, which she didn't think was possible) hair and were covered in dirt. The boy's eye blinked and looked back at Miranda. "You've got to hold this up higher," he said, then yelled loudly as he took every amount of effort possible to lift the roof up. She tried to do the same, but her fingers slipped, causing the roof to fall back onto the two defenseless people.

"No, Lenalee!" He turned to the trembling woman and yelled, "Beat it! You're of no help to me! She might die because of you!"

"I-I'm trying—"

"Yeah, well, trying isn't good enough! I have to… She's gonna…" He paused shortly afterwards, eye staring at the sky as if transfixed, then collapsed.

"Ah…" She covered her mouth with one hand before fussing over the boy. His body was too warm for comfort. A fever induced by exhaustion, maybe? He looked at her tiredly with his eye, gasping for air, as she rested a hand against his forehead. "Are you alright?"

"Why are you asking me that?" He was on the verge of snapping. "Lenalee's… Get help for Lenalee! If she dies, it's all your fault!"

It took her a moment before she nodded, leaving him behind as she ran through the ruins of town, trying not to fall into the dust. She turned left and right, asking, pleading, even begging for help. She even added promising rewards of food, but no one was swayed. All were too tired or hurt to help. Finally, one burly man heeded her call for help and asked her to show the way. By the time she got back, the redheaded boy was at it again. His scrawny fingers managed to lift the structure about five inches.

"Stop it, you'll kill yourself! I got help," she said, trying to help him lift it up. "He's probably all we need."

The boy didn't respond, a bead of sweat running down the side of his head and his dry lips coughing up dust. The burly man hefted and helped heave the roof up and out of the way, revealing broken plates, wooden beams, and two bodies in the same place. The boy did not hesitate to run up to her.

"Lenalee—"

"_Wo de…_"Miranda blinked, hearing the language only once before. It was Asian, but she didn't know from where. What was left of the government frowned on Asians and any foreigners in general, mostly because of the attacks from everyone. Russians were especially on bad terms, but that didn't matter. The small girl reached out and grabbed the boy's tunic by the sleeve, barely making out the words. "_Wo de… gege… Ta shi…_"

Immediately the redheaded boy checked the slightly older man for a pulse, pressing two bruised fingers against his neck. His eye widened before returning to the girl named Lenalee. "_Duibuqi, danshi ta shi…_" Two languages? She stared at him in amazement. She could only speak German because she was born there.

"_Bu!_" The girl sat up too quickly for her injured state and gasped, laying back down as quickly as she sat up. "_Ta bu hui… Ni gaosu wo ta bu shi… Ta bui hui…!_"

"_Duibuqi._" He seemed sad, which was more than enough to tell Miranda that the younger man was dead. Flies flew around the corpse as if dancing for their next meal. The girl burst into tears, her body shaking with the enormous amount of grief. He only stared at her before giving her a long hug.

For the third (probably more, she thought cynically) time that day, she felt completely useless. The burly man thanked her and took an orange off her hands before heading elsewhere, all the while the little girl cried and cried, the corpse of what seemed to be a relative—an uncle, maybe? Perhaps even a brother—not getting any more alive. She spaced out for a little bit, staring blankly at the rubble. She wondered vaguely how many people died within the town. _Probably most of them._

"Lenalee? Lenalee! Are you okay? Hey!"

Miranda snapped out of her thoughts and turned her head. The boy was shaking the little girl, whose body seemed bloodied, yelling her name over and over. She walked over to them and pushed the boy aside gently, checking the girl. She didn't seem to have any significant injuries, just a lot of bruises. Whoever the male was must have taken the damage for her. She picked the girl up and turned to the boy, who looked confused.

"I'm going to take her home," she said, "and make sure she recovers properly. Is that okay with you?"

"No!" He glared at her. "Lenalee speaks little English as is, and now you, a complete stranger, are going to take her right after her older brother dies? No way in hell am I gonna let you do that unless you take both of us?"

"She needs rest, but if you want, you can come along."

The boy blinked, as if not expecting that response, and paced in a circle, pondering. It took about half a minute before sighing. "Fine," he said, "but I have to come along. No leading me astray now."

"I wouldn't do that to you, Mister…"

"Lavi," he replied, a childish grin on his face, "but hold on the 'mister' part. I'm only twelve or thirteen years old."

~O~

Wandering back through the woods, the boy named Lavi talked a lot. His discussions ranged from the chances of a previously-boreal ecosystem having a dust bowl to the current governmental disasters. He was quite the intellect for a little boy, but his emotions, even down to his rage, she noticed, was a bit detached. Despite that, he seemed to be an overall good kid with a love of learning and a worry streak for Lenalee.

"She moved with her family when the war nearly reached the end," he explained. "Her parents were put into questioning and never came back, leaving her and her brother to themselves. They essentially fled from the law and moved here. No one ever comes here, not even that new radical group promising to bring good fortunes."

The information sounded familiar. She remembered eavesdropping while being a maid on some people, talking about the 'Noah' group and 'The Millennium Earl'. Since the government's collapse, the country resided in a state of anarchy and everyone fended for themselves. Trust was a foreign concept by now, and the idea of having the slightest affection for someone other than yourself became a joke. However, the group claimed to 'help bring back democracy' and would 'restore the way we used to live', which sounded enticing to her ears, but the way the house owners spoke, it sounded nothing more than a myth.

"How is she?"

She caught herself from tumbling over out of the shock of being put back into reality. "Wh-What?"

"Lenalee. I asked how she is." He rubbed the back of his head. "You're… kind of a space case, aren't you?"

"Sorry," she replied, head drooping slightly. "She's sleeping."

"Oh."

They walked in silence for the remainder of the trip. She was used to the silence at that point, what with having to walk by herself to the town. The cabin caught her sight, much to her relief, and approached it, Lavi following behind her, glancing from side to side out of curiosity. Miranda blinked, noticing the door was unlocked and the smell of eggs cooking wafted a bit outside the front door.

"Allen?" she called, opening the door wide. The small boy blinked and looked over his shoulder with a smile on his face.

"Welcome home, Miranda."

"Miranda, huh? That's your name?" Lavi peered from behind her, looking around at the interior of the cabin. Allen stopped approaching towards her, shocked by the presence of other people aside from the older woman. "Ooh, something smells good."

"Ah!" She smiled briefly, hefting up the little girl in her arms. "Allen, I would like you to meet Lavi—" she pointed to the redhead by her left "—and, uh…"

"Lenalee," Lavi whispered.

"Lenalee," she repeated, thanking him for the help in her head. "I brought them here because she is injured and he refuses to leave her side. Lavi, this is Allen. We just met yesterday and—"

"That's potentially dangerous. What if he had rabies?" He turned to Allen. "And what if she was a pedophile, hm? You're both too trustworthy. You have to question everything. Why did you go with her in the first place?"

He hesitated, fidgeting with the spatula in his hands, sizzling from the warm contact with the fireplace. She wondered if he couldn't figure out the gas stove in the kitchen's corner. He stared back at the frying pan and watched the eggs, flipping them over before answering, "Because she didn't hit me when she met me."

The answer nearly made tears well up in her eyes as Lavi stood there, unimpressed. He took notice of Lenalee and said, "We should probably put her down."

"Oh! Yes, you're right. Allen, if you cook more eggs for the rest of us, that would be nice! Lavi, in my room down that hall, there's a bed with blankets on it. Go get one for me and the pillow."

Allen nodded and dug more eggs out of the basket, cracking open the shells to release the hidden treasure of yolk onto the frying pan. Lavi said nothing and proceeded down the hall and disappeared into her room. Miranda placed the girl on the floor of the living room, watching her take in small, shallow breaths. She got up, obtained a glass, and filled it with water. Lavi came back down the hall with the pillow in one hand and a blanket in the other, seeming to rush himself as he approached Lenalee.

"I got her some water," Miranda said, but he wasn't listening.

"Lenalee's a happy girl, you know?" He fluffed the blanket out over her, letting it gracefully fall and cover her body. "She doesn't like it when people of her family get hurt or even die." He put the pillow behind her head and sighed. "When she wakes up, what're we going to do? She's going to be too upset to live on her own, and I certainly can't help her that much. I couldn't even lift up the roof by myself." He stared at her with a solemn expression. "When the storm hit, it made me realize that I'm just a child. But compared to the adults, I am more better off than anyone else. I thought I was lucky. Seeing Lenalee like this, knowing there is no way to bring her brother back…" He trailed off, staring blankly at the floor.

"If you want," Miranda said after a moment of silence, "you can stay here, too. I certainly don't mind. I can take care of her as well. It's not like I'm going to kick you out when she recovers."

He snorted. "You have an abnormally high liking for children. What are you running, an orphanage?"

"Well, no, but…" She paused, mulling over the idea. Orphanage. It wasn't like she could hold onto any other job. Besides, there were no other jobs available. The entire town was in post-disaster mode and still recovering. Children like Lavi and Lenalee needed help, but they were easily discarded for items, like clothes or food. Allen brought over four plates worth of eggs and fruit, nervously handing it to Lavi and Miranda, but she didn't even notice the plate was there. "An orphanage," she repeated. The more she thought about it, the more she figured it was a good idea.

"Miranda?" Allen held his fork up nervously, confused at her suddenly-bright expression.

"An orphanage is perfect!" She clapped her hands together, beaming. "Thank you so much for the idea, Lavi! An orphanage!"

"What? I didn't even—"

It was too late to make her idea be shot down. She was almost singing with excitement and joy, spinning around in a full circle before walking towards the kitchen, humming while she stabbed her egg. Lavi blinked.

_Is this gonna be okay? She seems crazily depressed. _He stared at her as she smiled at Allen, helping him peel some apples. His attention returned to the sleeping Lenalee, noticing the cup beside her head. He hoisted it up to her lips and dripped a few drops of the liquid, which made her gasp a little, but not enough to wake her up. _At least this is better than nothing, but me? Living in an orphanage? Great going, Lavi, giving her that idea. Sheesh, I'm losing my touch. _

_I seriously need to try and find Bookman to fix that…_

~O~

Woo-hoo! Chapter 2, done! So! Did you like it? Hate it? Love it? Destroy it? Hit me with a review, por favor! Next chapter is going to be the start of all that is bad. Well, bad for her and the kidlets. Not so bad for this totally-new group called the Noah. …Yeah, shut up. See you in Chapter 3~! —Mr. Ree


	3. The Second Exorcist Project

ARGH CHINESE FAIL WHAT! Thanks to one of my dear reviewers, I realized that I got all my Chinese wrong (well, only a phrase, but still)! Why me? Well, that's what you get when you only study a language for three years… Anyways! Welcome to Chapter 3 of 'Miranda Lotto: A Survivor's Tale'! Last chapter, I got up to 17 reviews: animephoenix2468, Xx Falcon's Eye xX, rin1782, , Fyrearth, Hikou no Kokoro, and MuffinStealer (DON'T YOU DARE TAKE THAT STORY DOWN) ! Man, you guys are so kind to me. So, with that said, let us commence forthwith with Chapter 3 of 'Miranda Lotto: A Survivor's Tale'!

Disclaimer: D. Gray-Man is property of Katsura Hoshino. This series is a parody and nothing more, so please support the official release. Got it? Damn well better.

~O~

3. Second Exorcist Project

**BLACK ORDER JURY COMMITTEE (LONDON, ENGLAND)**

**File No.:** 7254643 (November 2010)

**In the case of: **(name deleted), charge of stealing (one hundred and six accounts), premeditated murder (fifty-seven accounts), harassing police officers (ninety-four accounts), assistant in Tea Party movement bombing of Times Square, New York, 2010 (one account), along with several other charges. More murders and cases of stealing may be added on to case later after trial, set on day (deleted).

**Victim(s):** (all names deleted)

**Additional Notes:** Set on bail for three million U.S. dollars, granted by judge (name deleted), and paid by (name deleted). Put in jail again after drunk driving charge, put in jail for life after new witness (name deleted) protested that s/he saw him/her murder his/her fifty-eighth victim, (name deleted). The defendant admitted to killing more than over one hundred people and pledged on the day of his/her release that s/he will kill again. As of the trial, however, s/he went missing. Police are trying to find him/her to this day.

—**END REPORT (DECEMBER 2011)—**

The old man's eyes scrutinized the file again while waiting for the ambassador of Territory C (formerly known as Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, and Maine), stirring around the tea that was offered to him by one of the ambassador's maids. The year 2010 was approximately forty-three years ago, and about twenty or so years before the war started, if his memory served correct. He watched the news that day when the first nuclear bombs from Russia dropped on the poverty-stricken country of the United States of America.

_April 23__rd__, 2033. _He stared at the liquid in the china cup and took a quick sip, hearing mutters behind the double doors, which was lavished in golden decors. _The war ended last year, 2052, when the final two countries, the United States of America and Russia both declared defeat. It made it a long, nineteen-year war. And now, the Earl is back, and we can barely do anything about. Funny, how in this lifetime, I have to deal with him again._

The doors opened, making him look up from the dismally small report. He forced himself to crack a smile. "Hello again, Leverrier."

Leverrier, a former U.S. Army general, was about six-foot-three (195 centimeters) and two hundred and sixteen pounds (98 kilograms), most of the weight being muscles. He entered the war when he was about thirty and advanced in the rankings quickly, having a knack for making destructive explosives out of what little supplies the squadron possessed. For his honor to the country, he was promoted to an ambassador of Territory C after the war ended. He was also one of the richest people in the town formerly known as Boston. "We meet again, Bookman. What brings you here?"

"The report you gave me is all of one piece of paper and the trial itself," he replied, eyes glinting and back instinctively straightening. "Is that honestly all you have for me? It's not much at all to work off of, considering how much you want him."

"I wasn't the head of the Order at the time," Leverrier countered, sitting down across from the old man in his comfortable chair. "My father was. What knowledge did he have when the pesky fiend ran off that he would be the cause of the country's problems in 2053, hmm? Besides, the case was in the England branch. He would have never—"

"He should have assumed anything was possible."

Leverrier's eyes narrowed. "The man was already thirty in 2010. By this time he should have died by now, like you after smoking all those cigarettes."

"My health has nothing to do with this." He picked up the report, resisting the urge to throw it at the head of the secret society, and thumbed through it. "But you are right, I'll give you that much. He should be in his eighties, in other words, out of the picture for starting a group focused on dictatorship. The chances of him dying in the war was absurdly high, too, but he managed to survive."

"Unlike four billion other people." Leverrier glared. "Of all the people to survive, it had to be that damned Millennium Earl. Didn't he do enough damage in the 2010 mid-term elections?"

The 2010 mid-term elections was one of the highly anticipated elections between Republicans and Democrats. At the time, a democratic President ran the office, and the control of the Senate dangled between the two parties. The radical group, known as the Tea Party, believed that benefits from the government, such as social security, should not be given out and believed the government should have less control over people's lives. One particular Tea Party member decided to take things to the extreme and blew himself and several buses up in the middle of Times Square. The Earl helped with his planning, and, as a result of the attack, politics grew feisty and out of control.

One could argue that the attack was the start of America's downfall, with which Bookman agreed.

"Apparently not," he said, sighing, "which is why I need as much information on him as I can get. Do you have anything, and I mean anything, else I could use?"

"I scoured the entire Black Order database, and that's all I turned up with."

"Check again."

"Did so three times." His glare deepened. "I understand you're trying to be helpful, friend, but can't you see I currently have my hands tied? The ambassador of Territory A was murdered in his own home yesterday, and now that entire section is in chaos. The remainder of our government told us that we need to be on full-alert."

_I see… If all the ambassadors are killed, the country really will fall into an anarchy, just like the rest of the world. Or rather, what's left of it. _He relaxed a little in his seat. "Before I leave, I want to confirm something."

"Ask away."

"All right." He finished off his tea before speaking again. "Is it or is it not true that Russia is planning for an attack?"

"You don't let anything slip by your old ears, do you?"

"Habit of mine, yes."

Leverrier cracked his knuckles, which made Bookman raise an eyebrow. That was his nervous habit he did whenever he was uncertain of the future. "Well, yes. The Branch in California sent out drones the other day and did a search of Russia, locating several missile sites. However, we have our own… _methods_ of beating them back to where they came from."

It took a moment for Bookman to realize what he meant. "You don't mean you're going to use _that_, are you?"

"What other choice do we have? Compared to the few that we may lose, it'll save hundreds of thousands, and have a chance against that damned 'Noah' group. Besides, no one has any value of them anymore."

"Using children means their skills will be highly undeveloped. It also means their chances for surviving the transplants themselves are practically zero." The project Leverrier had was code-named as 'The Second Exorcist Project'. It included kidnapping unwanted children and taking out their brains, all while burning the original body, and putting their brains into advanced robots formerly used by the CIA. It was first developed in the year 2012, but it was immediately shot down by the government, calling it 'asinine' and 'inhumane'.

But now, there was no government, except for the remaining ambassadors and the director of them, Cross Marian, who could have cared less about children.

"Yes, but children are easier to persuade and leaves a lot to work on, which means we can teach them instead of re-teaching adults." His eyes sparkled with the taste of victory. "Do you see what I'm getting at? It would be an unstoppable army!"

"Brain transplants are difficult to accomplish."

"Not when you're implanting them into robots."

Bookman slammed a fist onto the table, letting his emotions get ahead of him. The thought of children, like his idiot apprentice, Lavi (who was currently missing, much to his annoyance), getting their brains planted into robots and used for war while their original bodies being discarded was... There were no words for it. However, he could not being himself to say any of that. Instead, he said, "Good luck with that. Tell me if it succeeds if you live long enough to see Russia's attack."

"Same to you, Bookman."

The old man snorted and rose from his chair, walking slowly towards the door. Using that project would probably end up hurting America more than helping, from the way he saw it. However, that currently wasn't in his mind. His new mission was to find his apprentice, whom he misplaced in a rundown city in the former state of Vermont.

_I'm getting far too old for these games… _He lit a cigarette once he stepped outside and sighed. _Way, way too old for this…_

~O~

There was a small crash, followed by a small wail. Miranda rushed over, confused and distraught by being woken up, to the kitchen, where Allen stood clutching his hand. Lavi's hands were up in a 'I didn't do it' gesture. Steaming water covered the floor as the old tea kettle leaked the liquid out. She tried to summarize the situation and blinked. "What's wrong?"

"He grabbed the wrong portion of the tea kettle," the redhead explained, getting a towel. "It burnt his hand pretty bad."

"Oh, God!" She yanked Allen's hand and observed it carefully, turning it over so that it was palm-side up. The hand was screaming red with little blisters already forming. He trembled out of pain and tried to control his wailing, not wanting to wake up the new girl who was still recovering. "Okay, uh, let's get your hand and dunk it in cold water for a while so that it doesn't hurt as bad. You stay right here. Lavi! Can you re-fill the kettle and brew it again? Make sure you grab it properly."

She didn't hear his remark of, 'I will, considering how I'm not four' as she stepped outside of the house and walked over to one of the barrels, kicking orange pine needles all the way. She didn't know how much more food was left exactly, but what she did know was that they wouldn't have enough for the end of the month, which was quickly approaching. Worse yet, the town closest to her cabin was still recovering, and that meant serious food withdrawals. She sighed.

What on Earth was she going to do now?

She dipped a small cup into the barrel, amazed by how much water they had left, and returned quickly to the cabin. Allen rocked back and forth in the living room, holding his hand as if it was a rope that kept him from falling to his doom. She brought him the glass of water and smiled briefly. "Here you are," she said calmly. "Put your hand in it, okay?"

He nodded, gratefully accepting the cup, and put his miserably burnt hand into the water. Lavi glanced over his shoulder, waiting for the kettle to whistle, as he watched the woman quickly run back to her room, probably to get a new change of clothes. "Hey, Allen, how're you feeling?"

The boy shuffled his feet as he walked back into the kitchen, watching the small amounts of steam coming out of the kettle. "Fine," he mumbled.

_He still doesn't like me, huh? Talk about suspicious, even though he completely trusts this 'Miranda' person. Maybe he's shy? _He patted the little boy on the head, grinning widely, causing Allen to gasp out of shock. "C'mon, buddy, you need to lighten up! I'm your friend, can't you trust me? Here, I'll get you some green tea. That oughtta brighten up your spirits."

_H-He's a crazy person! _Allen nodded slowly, despite his uncertainty of this 'Lavi' character. Steps echoed down the hall as Miranda emerged, wearing boyish clothes that had several holes in them, but they were still wearable. She smiled faintly.

"I'm going to town to see if anyone needs my help," she explained, then pointed over to Lenalee, who resumed to sleep soundly. "You two take care of her while I'm gone, okay? If she wakes up, make sure that you give her something to eat. If I find any, I'll bring home some food, okay?"

Allen put down his cup on the counter and rushed over to her, hugging her legs. "Be safe," he said quietly with his grayish-blue eyes wide, almost looking scared for her. "And come back home soon."

"Of course!" She nodded, then glanced over to Lavi. "If anything goes wrong, you're in charge, okay?"

He nodded. "Gotcha."

"Alright. See you three later!"

She waved, then stepped out the door, smelling the air. The scent of rain caught her attention, which caused her to look up at the sky. Dark clouds loomed overhead, indicating a real rainstorm quickly approaching. She ignored that and walked down the path, heading towards the town. She began to notice some of the dead trees were being cut down using rusty chainsaws held by young men. She nodded at them and continued down, noticing a building was slowly being restored. People crowded around it, picking up rubble here and there, along with food. Some were still digging out either living people or corpses. She could tell which was which by the cries of anguish or shouts covered in joy.

She glanced to her left to see people carrying homemade stretchers with injured people on them towards the building. She pieced the puzzle together. It's a makeshift hospital and shelter.

She went through the door, noticing the pungent smell of rotting flesh. Bodies were stacked up in the farthest left corner, flies and maggots alike helping themselves to their newfound feast. She proceeded onwards, noticing women clothed in white attending to lots of injured people. Food and water were both on the right wall, ranging from bread and rice to strawberries and watermelon. Her mouth watered when she eyed some pears, remembering faintly their taste. She craved one, but refrained the urge to take one with her. The people there was in more need than she was.

"…should we do with them? They have no parents or identification."

She blinked, noticing two nurses talking about two small children. Both looked feminine, the shorter having pretty eyes and blonde hair, but the other's face was stern and laced with jaded eyes. His hand was grasping the girl's wrist protectively. Perhaps they were siblings? She shook her head. No, they couldn't be. They looked nothing alike.

"We can't just throw them out."

"What choice do we have? You know the new policy enacted. Children are not as important as the adults." The nurse knelt a little and smiled. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to ask you to leave. This is an adults-only area."

"I'm not as stupid as I look!" The taller of the two yelled.

"I'm sorry," the nurse said again.

"Sorry my ass! Che!" He swatted the nurse's hand away, giving a glare that would have made Death shudder. "You don't care about us kids at all!"

"Yuu," the girl whispered, but he didn't stop.

"You're fucking pigs, all of you, who value your own damn lives over hers! Look at her!" He pointed to the girl, who Miranda could now see had large cuts over her arms and face that were still bleeding. "Look at her! She needs help, and none of you are willing to offer because we're only 'children'! You damn fucking—"

A male came over with a rifle in his hands, taking aim at him. "You filthy little Jap," he said, pointer finger hugging the trigger a little too closely for comfort. "Get the hell out of my hospital and go back to Japan where you came from. You bastards are part of the reason America is like this, you and Russians and the fucking Koreans! Get the fuck out!"

"Fuck you, I'm the only Japanese one out of the two of us! She's American! Take care of—"

A shot resonated within the walls, causing Miranda to flinch. The boy glared as his cheek oozed with blood from the scratch the bullet caused. The doctor loaded the gun again. "I'll give you fifteen fucking seconds to get the fuck out of my hospital, Jap. Fourteen."

"Yuu!" The girl tugged on his arm as he tried to take a step forward, almost as if daring the doctor to do it. "Yuu, let's just go, okay? Please…"

"Alma—"

She didn't listen. She pushed him out of the hospital doors and into the street. Miranda's eyes followed them until the doors closed and the doctor resumed to attending to the injured. She bit down on her tongue and actually helped herself to a pear before leaving, trying to find the two that caused such a commotion.

They were nowhere to be seen.

She sighed heavily, unable to bring herself to look for them further as she bit into the pear she snatched. The taste brought her back to Germany for a split second, an image of her parents and her at a lake. They were having a picnic. She was wearing a purple dress that day. She smiled at the memory before it vanished and reality took over. She sighed again before kicking the dirt at her feet.

"…did you hear?" A man spoke, hanging out near a pile of rubble. "I heard the Noah are going to try and help us out. They're going to be here in a week."

"More than what the ambassador's doing," another commented. "I think I like these 'Noah' people more than the current failing government."

"We should help them when they get here."

"Second that."

_That's the second time I've heard about the Noah this week. _She walked uneasily and sat down at a foundation of a former building. _I don't feel safe about them… Maybe it's because Lavi said something about them being 'radical' or something. _She finished of the pear and extracted the seeds, just in case she happens to go somewhere friendly for growing pears. _But right now, I have to focus on getting more food. And for that, I may have to steal._

_Call it revenge, but tonight, I'm raiding that hospital, legally or illegally. Whoa. I'm actually going to break the law? Uhm. I'm not to sure how I feel about this… Help?_

~O~

Okay, Miranda? I think you got a little too tired. Well, it's integral to the plot! That's my story and I'm sticking to it! So! Did you like it? Hate it? Love it? Destroy it? Hit me with a review, por favor! …Mr. Meenor is missing. Actually, I am in Boone, North Carolina, which is 1,113 miles away from Maine. So yeah… See you in Chapter 4! —Mr. Ree


	4. Kanda and Alma

Boo! What's up? I returned home (even though it no longer feels like home anymore. It's rather strange!), and now I'm writing this awesome-possum chapter of 'Miranda Lotto: A Survivor's Tale'! I'm telling you right now, I do not like Baltimore or New York City. At all. I got lost so bad… -shudders- Well, anyways, I got up to 24 reviews last chapter: Hikou no Kokoro, , Sin of Innocence, TK-chan, Fyrearth, animephoenix2468, and rin1782 ! Cakes and brownies for all, along with this! So! Let us commence forthwith with Chapter 4 of 'Miranda Lotto: A Survivor's Tale'!

Disclaimer: D. Gray-Man is property of Katsura Hoshino and Funimation. This series is a parody and nothing more, so please support the official release. Got it? Damn well better.

~O~

4. Kanda and Alma

She returned early in the evening empty-handed. The smell of smoke assailed her nostrils as she entered through the door, seeing Allen coughing profusely and gagging while Lavi only shook his head. "_That's _why we don't use leaves for kindle," he said before glancing up and noticing her. "Oh, hi."

Allen looked away from the fireplace and smiled at Miranda, waving away the smoke that threatened to attack his lungs once more. "Welcome home."

"I'm home," she said, looking over towards the living room. Lenalee continued to sleep in heavy slumber, arms lying across her tiny chest. She looked paler than normal, which caused for great concern on Miranda's part. She walked towards the Chinese girl and patted the back of her hand onto the warm forehead, immediately withdrawing it after half a second. The fever was increasing, not decreasing as she hoped. Frowning, she walked to the kitchen and retrieved a washcloth before splashing some water onto it.

"She's getting sicker, isn't she?"

She looked over to Lavi, who stood near the old sink that drew no water. His arms folded against his chest as that odd, solemn expression rested against his face. He almost looked agitated.

"I wouldn't say sicker," Miranda said optimistically, hoping to cheer him up. "She's just warm, that's all. I bet she'll wake up in no time."

"It's almost been two days."

To that, she said nothing. She only gave him her apologetic expression before striding towards the girl and placing the wet rag on her forehead. "Allen," she called, "how much food do you think we have?"

"Uhm." There was a sound of heavy footsteps of an unbalanced child before the sound of a creaking. "Well, we've got apples and eggs, but that's really it. I can check the, uhm… the cold box, too?"

"Refrigerator, even though it's old-style," Lavi promptly corrected.

"Yeah. Refri… what he said."

Miranda shook her head. "That won't be necessary." She rose from her spot, stepping away from the child before turning to the two, who were attempting to cook eggs. "I'm going to go out and won't be back until rather late. By the time I come back, I hope you two will be sleeping. I'll have presents and I don't want you two to see them yet."

Lavi seemed skeptical as Allen's eyes widened at the news. She wasn't sure at which part they began to widen, but she was pretty sure it was when she said she would come back rather late. She smiled in an assuring fashion. "I'll be fine," she added for his sake. "Make sure she's okay. I'll also bring back some medicine."

The two nodded as she walked down the hall into her room. The tattered drapes had holes that made her see the outdoors. The trees loomed in an awful presence of certain defeat as she looked around for some form of a hair tie. She couldn't have the curly stuff getting in her way. She found a snapped elastic and tied it around her hair as best she could before looking for a large basket or bag she could carry lightly with her. She eventually found, under the bed, a worn-out backpack with the logo 'L.L. Bean' on the back. She brushed off the dust before slipping it around her shoulders.

_This is for the good. For Allen, Lavi and Lenalee. They deserve something, too. _She nodded to herself before hesitantly glancing back out the window. _C'mon, don't chicken out now. For their sake, now. _

She left the room, closing the door behind her, as she wandered back down the hall and towards the front door. Three eyes stared at her as she left without another word, locking the door instinctively as she left. The clouds rumbled quietly as she navigated her way through the dried-up forest, tripping several times. She gripped what she thought was a tree root to hoist herself up when it turned out to be a femur bone. She choked back a surprised scream and tossed the bone, hurrying to her feet and speed walking the remainder of the way.

A small flash of lightning illuminated the torn-down town as rain pattered against former parapets and foundations. She could make out candles lighting up the shelter, the flames intricately dancing to small movements of people. She worked her way down the hill and passed by wooden beams and broken, lifeless arms. A little girl's body, who Miranda recalled as Leah, laid motionless, eyes wide and already-worn dress covered with mud and rain. One of the eyes were replaced by lovely bug colonies. She forced herself to look away as she moved forward.

The makeshift shelter was easy to get into. People came and left as she entered, seeing the tally of bodies increased since the last time she entered. The doctor from before was there, chatting away with one of the younger nurses. The rifle was strapped to his back as he laughed at something. How could he laugh like that when not to long ago he turned away a little girl bleeding by threatening her friend?

She looked over to the tables near the back wall. Foods of all proportions were strewn out for all to see. She hesitantly glanced back over her shoulder before walking towards them, mouth salivating by the selection they had. Unzipping the first pocket of her bag, she began picking through the food and choosing what would be liked more. She always looked back to see if anyone was watching her out of suspicion while lowering her bag under the table to hide it. Occasionally someone looked at her, but only one time before looking somewhere else. She felt the leathery muscle of her heart turn to solid gold as it seemed to bruise her ribcage from pounding so hard.

When the biggest pocket was filled, she slowly zipped it up before opening the next pocket. In total, there were four, including a small one, but she knew she wouldn't be able to use it, so that left her with three. She started to fill the second-largest pocket when a shout caused her to jump.

"Hey, you!"

She looked to see where it was coming from, eyes wide from shock. She should have known that she would have gotten caught. Instinctively, she shoved the bag behind her as she watched the doctor from before come towards her. She flinched as his footsteps drew closer, but he walked right past her. She watched as he began talking to one of the nurses, who seemed to possess medicine in her hands. The way she was dressed was darker than normal.

"Where do you think you're going with that?" he demanded, as if all information required passing by his ears. The nurse merely smiled at him.

"I am going out with it. Is this a problem?"

"Where are you taking it with you?"

"To where it has a mouth but cannot speak, and has a bed but cannot sleep."

Miranda heard the riddle before, once said by her father. After two days of trying to figure it out, he told her the answer: _'A river.' _She watched the doctor grow slightly agitated, obviously not familiar with the riddle, and the nurse kept smiling as she left. The doctor sighed, obviously not wanting to do anything else with the situation, and resumed doing his rounds to all the patients. Miranda picked up the bag and resumed filling it with food.

_The only river I know here dried up. _She zipped up the third and final pocket before slipping it over her shoulders. _Why would she be going there with medicine? Wait, wasn't that the nurse who told those two children they couldn't stay there? Maybe she's going to see them._

She glanced towards the front door, noticing the amount of people there. With such a big bag, it would only be natural for someone to be suspicious. She looked around and spotted a door with a 'DO NOT ENTER' sign, but the words failed to register in her illiterate brain. All she could make out was the word 'do'. Speaking English was hard learning as is, but reading the language was borderline impossible.

She walked towards the door, avoiding glances of patients and medical professionals alike. A particular older woman shot straight out of her bed, the veins of her eyes popping as her scrawny, leathery finger jabbed at her. "You!" she shrieked, almost getting out of her bed. Miranda found herself walking backwards, slightly terrified by her reaction. "You're the one I saw! You're the one that will bring the destruction of this country! Kill her! Kill her now!"

"Wh-What?" She looked around, trying to re-locate the door as the woman started walking, in spasms, towards her.

"The prophecy never lies!" she continued as Miranda grabbed a hold of the door handle and turned it. "You are our destruction! I will not allow it! Kill her, shoot her dead! Wretched, filthy—"

She hurried and slammed the door behind her, not pausing to catch a break as she ran down the unlit corridor. Her fingers felt the cool, damp walls as she pulled herself forward. She could hear the door opening.

"You she-demon!" the old woman spat, wobbling as she tried to follow her. The uneasiness of the footsteps told Miranda that there was no way she would be able to catch up to her. "Get back here! I will not allow it! I will stop the prophecy! I will not allow you to destroy this good country! I—"

Miranda stumbled as her hand touched a loose wall, knocking it and her over into a pit. She blinked and tried to catch onto something, anything, to break her fall, and managed to grab what felt like a ladder. Her arm snapped uncomfortably, possible a tendon getting dislocated, but she managed to stop herself nonetheless. She hefted herself up, locating her feet onto the ladder, and began climbing down. There was no way she was going back up there to face the crazy woman's wrath.

The ladder led deeper into the pit until she finally felt herself touch soft, muddy ground. A little splash indicated there was also water around. A smell of rotten sewage filled her nostrils while her eyes adjusted to the dark, seeing a sidewalk of some sort near the wall of the cave-like sewer system. She hurried over to it and looked around. Papers with words lined the walls, all with arrows and miles markers. She hoped to read it better, but all she could come up with was '…Vermont, 0.7 miles', followed by an arrow pointing right from where she was standing. The gut inside her told her to follow it, so she took an uneasy step forward and headed down the abandoned sewer system. Occasionally a rat would scare her, but her arm absorbed the most attention. It stung bitterly as she walked, often making her wince. She would need to wrap it when she got back home.

A frown touched her features as a realization dawned on her: _I forgot the medicine._

Looking back, she could no longer see the ladder. Gates of various sizes lined the walls, water wheels turned around in circles without any water itself, and across the way was another ladder. She bit her lip and headed towards it. She would have to get it later, but she didn't know if her nerves would be up for such a challenge.

She started to pull herself up the ladder when her arm protested in the most painful way possible. She gasped and tried to steel herself before trying again. It was the same result, but she knew she needed to get up the ladder. The sounds of dry, creaky water wheels became her cheering audience as she slowly but steadily climbed up the ladder, seeing a small light at the end of the way. The bag was starting to get too heavy by the time she reached the last few bars, hefting herself up into what looked to be a road. Rain splashed over her face as the lightning, her light, flashed above in the sky. Looking around, she noticed she was at the edge of the old river. In the distance, what looked to be a lantern bobbed about, then stopped.

_I wonder what that is? The nurse from before? _She gathered up the remainder of her nerves for the day and decided to go to the light. It drew closer with each step she took, and before long, she could make out three figures: A short one, a shorter one, and a rather tall one. She hurried when the rain threatened to drown her and saw the figures more up close. The two children from before were there, along with the rhyme-speaking nurse.

_I knew it. _

She approached them, which caused the Japanese boy stand up, glare plastered to his face. "Who are you?"

"Oh! Uhm, my name is Miranda. I was just curious of what was going on here…"

"Ow!" The blonde girl winced as the nurse smeared ointment onto her face, but she held her ground as the cuts looked less painful than before. "Thank you a lot."

The nurse nodded. "You're welcome, but I have to get back." She looked up at Miranda and blinked. "I saw you before. You were the one stealing food from the shelter, were you not?"

"Uh."

The nurse laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone. If you don't mind, could you give these two some food? They're probably starving. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm not certain of my name, but they call me 'Matron'. This one," she pointed to the boy, "is Kanda Yuu, and the other," she pointed to the girl, "is Alma."

"My name is Miranda Lotto." She smiled. "I'm trying to run an orphanage not too far from here."

"Oh, really? Then could I ask a favor of you and take these two?" She motioned a hand towards Kanda and Alma. "They have no parents, and she needs rest somewhere safe."

"Of course! That is, if they're willing."

Alma gave Kanda a hopeful glance, but he only sighed out of annoyance. He didn't seem to care either way. Alma grinned before smiling up at Miranda. "We are. Thank you."

Matron bowed her head. "Please, take care of them as best you can."

"I will try. Good luck at the shelter."

Matron nodded, then turned before disappearing in the dark. Another rumble of thunder indicated the start of the heavier downpours. Alma tugged onto Kanda's hand, who wasn't quite as trusting as she was, as they followed her through the darkened woods without another word. The rain made it especially slippery as she found herself slipping several times, but she stood up each time. Lightning cracked overhead as she reached the door of the cabin, looking back to see Alma dragging along an unwilling Kanda with her.

"Is he tired?"

"No, he's just being cranky and stubborn, as always," Alma grinned.

"Fuck you," Kanda muttered, but Miranda dismissed the comment as she unlocked the door. Lavi and Allen sat near Lenalee, who was still asleep, as they looked up from a card game taking place. Both took notice of the two new occupants with intrigued eyes.

"I'm home," she said. "Lavi, Allen, I would like you to meet Alma and Kanda. I just met them down by the old river tonight and they will be staying with us from now on."

Alma waved as Kanda just huffed. She could tell that he wasn't exactly the friendliest person on the face of the Earth, but sometimes being an orphan did that to people.

"What happened to your face?" Lavi asked.

Miranda turned towards Alma and paused, holding back a small gasp. The scars on her face, though no longer bleeding, bore a pinkish hue and covered up all areas of flesh. She looked as if a wild animal of sorts had just mauled her. It looked scarier when the girl smiled. "I was standing by a window when the storm hit. I can feel some of the glass shards still in the cuts, but the Matron said she couldn't get them out. So they'll probably be there forever."

"Oh."

Allen only stared at the two new strangers before picking up the cards again. He didn't seem to want to socialize, or the death glare from Kanda made him too scared to talk, Miranda couldn't tell. Lavi looked impatient with the way his foot tapped while he watched her show the two new guests around, the backpack placed onto the table for convenience. He looked back at Lenalee and frowned.

"Not to interrupt," he said, making Miranda pause, "but where's the medicine for her?"

She gave him an apologizing look. "I… I forgot about it. I promise to get some tomorrow, okay? I just… I had to hurry and get out of there. Oh!" She turned her attention to the backpack and unzipped it, dumping its contents onto the table. Food of all different types scattered over it, making everyone's eyes widen. "I got us more food to eat!"

Alma immediately snatched up the bag of bread and opened it, inhaling deeply to get the full scent of the wheat product. She grinned and handed a piece to Kanda, who only stared at it as if it were a human liver in his hands. Allen and Lavi got up from where they sat and observed the choices there while Miranda moved away from the group and sat down beside Lenalee. She placed a hand onto her forehead and frowned.

I wonder what that old woman meant? 'She-demon'? She tucked the blanket covering her better before sighing sadly. _I know I possess a lot of bad luck, but I don't think I would be so inconsiderate to make this country fall to pieces… I'm not that dangerous… And I don't see how could she be right, but…_

…_I'm really worried now…_

"Miranda!" Allen's voice snapped her out of her trance. "Come eat, too!"

"…Alright," she said, then got up from her spot, smiling at the group of kids who ate delightfully, with the one exception of Lavi, who stared at Lenalee. Miranda also glanced at her.

If she couldn't get the medicine by tomorrow, the girl would die, which was more important than some old woman's crazy rant. Tomorrow, she would go back and save the day.

The rain outside pattered on the roof, as if mocking her declaration, while the thunder clapped in false approval of the day tomorrow.

~O~

…That didn't turn out as good as I hoped, but it will have to do for right now. More on Kanda and Alma next time, and, well… Hah, interesting things begin, that's for sure. So! Did you like it? Hate it? Love it? Destroy it? Hit me with a review, por favor! See you in Chapter 5! —Mr. Ree


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